


The Right Thing to Do

by thetidesisrising



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Angst with an unresolved (yet happy) ending, Date Night, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, If you wanna read it that way, One Shot, Romance, also!!!, post 7x14 and 7x15, sideny being a wine snob through the vessel of donald ressler, that's up for you to decide, you guys know it's me i'm only capable of doing angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetidesisrising/pseuds/thetidesisrising
Summary: "It was Thursday night and Liz was pissed."Post 7x14 and 7x15; Liz and Ressler work out the kinks in their relationship and determine to have no more secrets between them during their weekly dinner.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Donald Ressler, Elizabeth Keen/Donald Ressler
Comments: 5
Kudos: 71





	The Right Thing to Do

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well, if it isn't me coming back from months of silence after promising that I wouldn't do that again. Let's just say that like Red, I am immensely untrustworthy. This fic was born in response to my immense excitement for this Friday's episode. I've been watching this show for seven years and I'm finally getting the Ressler episode I've prayed for. Please pray for my mental heath, as well as for all of yours, seeing as I am most likely going to cry and then go write something as angsty as "Dive In At The Deep End" (self-plug: if you haven't read that you definitely should do so immediately; i literally peaked writing that). I hope that you all enjoy!! And hopefully you will be hearing more from me shortly!!! Please reviews xoxo

It was Thursday night and Liz was pissed.

She stood totem-straight, aggressively sipping her wine as she clenched her jaw. As livid as she was, she remained worried, her gaze kept flickering to the oven clock, her nose scrunching up in vexation.

Ever since she brought Agnes home, Thursday nights were for Ressler. Agnes adored him; whenever he was around she clung to him like a tree frog, wrapping her arms around his legs and begging him to play with her. Liz supposed she was lucky to have him as a partner – he always obliged, even after one particular Thursday, when Agnes decided to give him a makeover. He had emerged from her bathroom covered in glitter, hot pink lipstick smeared carelessly across his right cheek. She still had the pictures on her phone.

Yet, he never complained, choosing to return to her apartment every Thursday evening, carryout dinner in hand. Or, so, she mused, until this Thursday. The past week and a half had been particularly rough, and she was concerned that he would not show. Between the Kemp case and going to Alaska, she was bone-tired, exhaustion seeping between her toes. She could fight the fatigue, however, in the need to see her partner. They had yet to discuss the rift between them – a result of Cooper’s betrayal with the gun cargo. She was also deeply unsettled about Ressler’s brother, her innate protectiveness flaring up at Robby’s unwanted phone calls. She knew innately that something was terribly wrong, and she could not help but be panicked at his silence.

The clock on the mantle continued to tick; she could feel the wave of anxiety rise in her chest. She took a healthy swig of wine to quell it, easing her muscles into a more relaxed state. The clock behind her chimed to indicate the late hour, and she deflated, downing the rest of her drink and padding into the kitchen for a refill. Just after uncorking the bottle, she was interrupted by a knock at the door. She haphazardly sat the bottle down, practically skipping to the door.

“Ress, is that you?” she called as she began to unlock the upper locks.

“Yeah,” he called, and she swooned in relief at the suave sound of his voice. “I brought Italian.”

She finished unlocking the door, throwing open the door with a broad smile.

“You are seriously a life saver,” she teased, biting her lip in anticipation.

He chuckled, briefly pulling her in for a hug. When he released her his brow was furrowed, his gaze darting about the room.

“No Agnes?” he asked, a soft frown appearing.

She shook her head, shutting the door behind him before making her way towards the kitchen. He followed her, plopping the takeout bag onto the island before pulling out a stool.

“She’s at a friend’s house for the night, I didn’t anticipate on getting back this early. It’s just the two of us, I’m afraid.”

He eased his features back into a sly grin, leaning forward to pull out the dishes from the bag.

“I got you chicken parmigiana, is that alright?”

She beamed, her eyes shining.

“My favorite!”

He smirked, and she scoffed at his self-assurance.

“Would you like some Malbec?” she asked, grabbing a glass from the upper cabinet.

He sighed dramatically, and she rolled her eyes.

“Malbec with my gnocchi? Somewhere I’m sure Reddington is having an aneurysm. But, I’ll have whatever the lady is having.”

She scoffed again, biting her lip to temper a bubbling smile as she passed him his glass.

“I’m sorry sir but this isn’t Tuscany – you try buying a good Sangiovese wine on a government salary.”

He laughed wholeheartedly, raising his glass to toast her. She sat down beside him and they ate contentedly, silence wrapped around them like a familiar blanket. When they finished she topped off their wine, ushering him to the living room, bottle in hand. They sat across from each other. Liz could feel the panic from earlier rising to the surface and she shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to quell it. Ressler seemed to notice her unease, placing his glass on the coffee table before her.

“Is everything okay, Liz?” he asked, his forehead creased in concern. “Did something happen.”

Her heart glowed at his concern, her lips eliciting a soft smile in gratitude.

“No, it’s just… we never talked about the last week.”

His expression morphed into one of understanding and he sat back, his shoulders tight with tension.

“Alright then, what’s up?”

She took a deep breath to calm herself, leaning forward to engage.

“Ress,” she said, her voice cracking. “I thought there were no more secrets between us.”

He winced, abruptly standing and languidly moving towards her.

“Liz, I –”

“You lied!”

She stood, seething. 

He inched closer, his arms wide.

“No, no, Liz, I swear, I –”

She jerked back, vehemently shaking her head.

“My god, I really thought we could be different this time.”

She spun on her heel but he was quicker, his finger pads flexing into her bicep. He yanked her arm, forcing her to briefly meet his gaze. How utterly handsome he was: his cheeks were bloody sanguine – red painting him irate, his typically gelled hair manic. Her skin crawled at seeing him so disheveled, her pupils dilating. Even in the midst of their argument he somehow still managed to take her breath away.

“I told Reddington where Kemp was!” he shouted, right hand tangled in his hair.

Liz froze, eyes widening at Ressler’s confession. Slowly, she turned toward him, angled slightly to the left.

“What?” she sputtered, eyes searching his.

Ressler closed the gap between them, softly cupping her cheek in his hand.

“I swear Liz, I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

Internally she melted, intrinsically relieved that he had not betrayed her. Still, the action profoundly confused her – she could not help but dwell on the man she met eight years previously, and how different he seemed from the version standing before her. She blinked listlessly, slowly shaking her head.

“I don’t understand. This doesn’t make any sense. Why would you have done that? It goes against everything you stand for!”

He appeared stricken, ardently shaking his head before surging forward and pressing his lips to hers. She responded eagerly, right arm tightening in his hair. After a moment she pulled back, her eyes widening as she gasped for air. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, yet the words seemed lodged in her throat.

“I love you,” he blurted, pupils dilated and irises ablaze.

Liz stood still; his words hung in the air. For a long moment there was nothing but the buzz of tension.

“What?” she managed to stutter.

He stepped closer again, his lips broadening in a boyish smile as his hands once again found his hair.

“And I know that’s probably not what you want to hear right now, but I do – I really do love you.”

Liz inhaled sharply, studying him intently. He seemed to glow – happiness radiating from him like a new father. She could not recall a time in all the years she had known him where he looked so genuinely happy.

“You love me?”

The vowels seemed lodged in her jaw, her mouth making sense of the words.

He nodded zealously, looping his arms around her waist.

“Yes.”

He looked at her as though she had hung the galaxy around them, stars twinkling in his cerulean eyes. Tears flooded her vision, and she broke out into an earnest grin.

“I think I could love you too.”

Immediately, he kissed her, her body wound tightly against his. She deepened the kiss, her tongue meeting his. She wanted to stay like this forever, transfixed in the moonlight from the window in an eternal embrace. Eventually she drew back for air, tracing her thumb along his cheekbones. He failed to stifle a yawn, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

He began to protest but she took his hand, silently squandering any objection by guiding him to the bedroom. He blushed as she turned to change, averting his gaze. He turned back around after she cleared her throat, meeting her fond gaze.

“You are so sweet,” she said softly, reaching up to kiss him once more.

They climbed into bed, and she turned off the lights. Moonlight illuminated her, painting her ethereal and Ressler’s breath hitched in awe.

“Liz,” he began, his voice a low murmur in the dark. “About what you said in Alaska, about my bother being the black sheep – I haven’t entirely been honest with you.”

He heard the bed creak as she turned to face him, her face half-illuminated in the moon glow. Her forehead was crinkled in worry at the tone of his voice, and he desperately wanted to reach out and soothe them. Instead, he took solace in grasping her hand between them, their fingers instantly intertwining.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” she urged, running her thumb along the back of his hand.

He exhaled deeply, lungs deflating like a beach ball.

It meant a lot to hear her say that – he had always dreamt they would be like this, a whimsical notion he had clung to even while hunting her.

“I know.”

Her sweet smile was soon interrupted by a yawn, and she desperately tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes.

He caved, pulling her into his side and resting his chin upon her head.

“We should get some sleep,” he said, pressing a kiss into her hair. “We can talk tomorrow.”


End file.
